


WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:47:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair get drunk and do silly things on a train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN

## WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN

by Roxanne

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/ga4/garett/senslash.htm>

Thanks to my sister for her ideas and help and inviting me along on her trip to Washington, DC. 

This story features a very bitchy Jim. If you don't like to see the boys as less than perfect, this might not be the story for you.

* * *

**WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN**  
By Roxanne 

I should've known better than to screw around with Sandburg when we'd been drinking ... when we were in a public place ... when there was even one chance in a million that he'd take me seriously. But this was not one of my more sensible times. And apparently things had gone too far between us to chance something this asinine. Only I didn't realize that until it was way too late. But, like I said, I was not thinking too clearly and things escalated faster than I could ever have imagined. Not that I'm sorry for where they led. I just think we could have been a little more ... discreet. 

We'd been sent to Washington, D.C. for this silly-ass officer exchange program that some police association idiot had dreamed up. They'd seen how well Megan had worked out and thought something a little closer to home would be good PR. The mayor jumped on it with both feet. I think it was just a way to get her two least favorite detectives out of Cascade and her hair for a while. I guess I should've been happy that we weren't sent to Australia. 

The point of this little experiment ... if there was one ... was that we were suppose to study alternate methods of dealing with possibly volatile situations. Volatile didn't begin to describe it. By the time we were through with our tour of duty, I was ready to take a rifle into a tower and start shooting. Of course, Sandburg was pumped up as usual with even more esoteric ... read useless ... information about the effects of paramilitary operations on modern urban ghettos. He'd spent every night typing hundreds of notes into his laptop while I watched ESPN and ate junk out of the mini-fridge. I think he still lives in hope of publishing his magnum opus in some scientific journal some day. 

We'd been assigned to ride along with this asshole IA jerk and a kid so green he made Sandburg look jaded. They spent almost all their time baiting each other while Sandburg and I got to play captive audience. We spent eight days riding around neighborhoods that made the Third World look prosperous in the back of a police cruiser. I had permanent creases in my knees from them being pressed against the Proguard shield and my ass was getting callused from spending so much time on it. 

Our two hosts made a few arrests, but most of the time was just spent sitting in traffic and listening to the two of them argue. Apparently a couple of other unsuspecting cops were cruising through Cascade with Rafe and Brown ... probably on a first-name basis with the girls at Sun Creme Donuts and Pete at the Mr. Tube Steak stand on Wesley. 

So Sandburg and I put in our time and then on the last night did a little celebrating that the whole thing was all over. The IA guy had just disappeared into the woodwork, but the bible thumper invited us to his parents' house for a home-cooked meal. Thank god, Blair had his heart set on Ethiopian that night. I would've eaten dog shit if it meant not having to spend another minute with the sanctimonious little shit. 

Blair, of course, graciously declined his offer and we ended up taking the train clear the hell across the district to this spot that someone at the Smithsonian had told him about. It was a tiny little neighborhood kind of place with vinyl tablecloths and folding chairs to sit on. We had to wait over an hour for our table, but the meal was worth the wait. Turned out that Ethiopian food wasn't half bad and their beer was damned tasty. 

We left the restaurant and then headed towards this sports bar the IA guy had told me about. I was half afraid he'd be there from the hints he'd been dropping, but we lucked out and escaped an evening with him too. The bar was one of those chain, theme places with fifteen TVs going and crap from every local high school nailed to the walls. They had a great selection of beer and a Jags game was showing on one of the TVs though, so it wasn't all bad. I focused on the game and filled Sandburg in with a play-by-play since he couldn't hear for shit. 

I'll admit, I'd had a few too many beers that night and Sandburg can't hold his liquor at all. Well, he was knocking back Jello shots like they were candy, so we were both three sheets to the wind when we finally caught the Metro Rail back to our hotel. I'm still not sure how we ended up in Shady Grove, but looking at the subway map ... which was a real trip when you were seeing double ... it looked to be about as far from Huntington as you could get. 

We'd stumbled onto the train at Capitol South and Blair headed straight to the back of the car. He threw his backpack in, then fell into the last seat, still giggling uncontrollably about me crushing my nuts by going through the subway gate too fast. I didn't think it was a bit funny, so I plopped down next to him and gave him my best scowl, making sure that I was crowding him as much as possible. 

It was about midnight and the train was nearly empty. This one old lady who had no business being out that late was at the opposite end of the car and she kept giving us the skunk-eye. I guess she didn't approve of drunks or exchange cops or guys in general. Blair kept winking at her like he could charm her into joining in our fun. It didn't work. Then there were a couple of kids that were high as kites. They were dressed in ghetto rags that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe and kept whispering loud enough that even Sandburg could hear them. They were going on and on about some girl they wanted to do and what a fine ass she had. 

I was just about to get up and roust them when Sandburg pipes up. 

"Hey, that Captain Hunter's a real piece of work." 

"Yeah," I agree readily. 

I hadn't liked him a bit. Hunter was like every cop's worst nightmare. He'd probably been a good cop once, but now he'd just been on the force way too long. All you had to do was look him in the eyes to see that he thought that the bad guys had already won and he was just putting in his time until one of them took him out. 

"He's as close to burned out as any cop I've ever seen. I wonder what he's doing back on the street and what idiot partnered him up with the kid." 

Blair shook his head as he gave it some serious thought. He'd moved straight from hysterical to pensive in a matter of seconds. Then he gets just plain weird. 

"Good looking guy, though. Bet you could bounce quarters off those abs." 

I can't help but whip my head around to stare at Sandburg with that one. He's bobbing his eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx and has this big, toothy grin on his face. I can't imagine what's going through that devious little mind of his, but I'm sure I'll find out. When he speaks again, I nearly have heart failure. 

"He seems like your type." 

I stare at him a moment, just sure he's going to break out into another fit of giggles, but he just looks at me with those huge blue eyes of his. 

"What d'ya mean by that?" 

I practically growled the words, just to let him know how pissed I was by the implication. Sandburg's apparently immune to my subtle threats though. 

One side of that gorgeous mouth kinds of quirks up and he says, "I'll bet you really go for those strong, silent types." 

We've never gone here before and warning bells are going off in my head like mad, but I can't let it drop there. I've been confused for being gay before ... you know, with the earring and the muscles and all ... and while I don't have anything against those guys, I'm not really that flattered by the presumption either. There was no way I was going to let Sandburg get away with that. That's when I make my first mistake. 

"Oh, you mean as opposed to short, nerdy, talkative types?" I remark dryly. 

Then I get the full-fledged Sandburg grin. 

"Ain't nothing wrong with us short, nerdy, talkative types. Bumpin' boots with one of us wouldn't be nearly as narcissistic as taking up with ole Vinnie and it'd be a helluva lot more fun." 

I'm trying to decide how to respond without getting myself into something I can't worm my way out of when Sandburg decides it's time for a change in topic. 

"Hey Jim." 

Now Sandburg looks all serious. He's turned on the ugly orange vinyl seat so that his back is against the train wall. He's got one leg under him and the other resting on his ever-present backpack. The lights guiding our way into the next station reflect off his hair, casting a golden glow that frames his face. 

"How old were you the first time you did it?" 

"Did what?" I reply pedantically. I know perfectly well what he's asking, but for some perverse reason, I want to make him spell it out. I want to watch his mouth form the words. That was my second mistake. 

"You know. Got lucky. Had sex. Did the deed. " 

"With somebody other than Mrs. Palm and her five sisters, you mean?" 

I knew that would get him. He suddenly howls with laughter, reminding me again just how drunk he is. 

"Yeah, Jim," he crows way too loudly. "With somebody other than Mrs. Palm and her five sisters." 

The old biddy at the front of the car throws us a real nasty look at that outburst. I hear her mutter something about young people not having any manners under her breath. The dopers are too involved in their own inane conversation to care what we say. 

"Seventeen," I mumble, trying to tone the kid down a notch. It doesn't work. 

"Seventeen? What were you, Jim? Some kind of late bloomer?" 

Suddenly, I'm indignant as hell. I give him another glare and cross my arms in front of me, puffing out my chest a bit for good measure. 

"Late bloomer?" 

I can feel my right eyebrow raise up as I glower at him. 

"You're nuts, Sandburg. How old were you? Sixteen and a half?" 

I figure I've got him with that one. Nerds don't get laid earlier than football stars ... no way ... at least not where I come from. I know he was a nerd. I've seen the pictures. 

"No, thirteen," he replies smugly. 

"Thirteen?" 

I nearly choke on my own spit. The old lady gives us another dirty look and this time I hear her gripe about us being perverts. I think she's talking to an imaginary friend because there's no one in listening distance, but I'm not sure. 

"How the hell did you get laid when you were thirteen?" 

I can't keep the amazement out of my voice. Sandburg hears it and his tone gets icy. Apparently, he was hoping for admiration, not incredulity. 

"The same way big, butch, repressed football players do, Jim. The head cheerleader puts out after the big game." 

"Yeah, right," I goad him. "What was it, some kind of mercy fuck or did she lose a bet?" 

Sandburg gets this kind of evil glint in his eye and says, "No, he just had a thing for short, nerdy, talkative types." 

Well, that shut me up ... for about a second. 

"You are so full of shit." 

How's that for a comeback? I didn't graduate magna cum laude for nothing. 

"What's the matter, Ellison? Hit a little too close to home?" 

I never knew Sandburg had such a mean streak, but now I can tell he's really enjoying his game of bait the drunk. I'm kind of stuck for a response, but Sandburg jumps in with a new one. 

"So, where's the weirdest place you've ever done it?" 

I have a moment to think about it as the train pulls into yet another station and a guy that looks like he's seen the better side of 80 a while ago shuffles on and drops down in the seat ahead of us. He sits there for maybe 10 seconds, then gets up and heads on to another car. 

"Come on, Jim," Blair prods me. "Fess up." 

I grin like an idiot now because there's no way he can top me on this one. That's when I made my third mistake. 

"The garage at the police station," I announce proudly. "During shift change. Carolyn gave me this killer blow job before work on my birthday. I just sat there and grinned and waved at the guys walking by while she went to town on me. Man, I couldn't hardly keep it down that day. Every time I'd look at her, I'd get hard just thinking about it. How 'bout you?" 

My stomach drops as Sandburg gives me another shit-eating grin. He's got me and he knows it. He kind of toys with me by letting me sit and think I've won for about half a second. Then his eyebrows bob up and down as he takes a deep breath and he begins. 

"A convent." 

"A convent?" I yell out. "How the hell did you manage that? If you tell me you made it with a nun, I'll kill you. I swear to god." 

"No, not a nun," he laughs. "She was just a novice ... hadn't taken her vows yet. And she decided to leave the convent not long after that anyhow. I have that effect on women, you know?" 

I cross my arms again and lean back in my seat to wait for this one. It had better be damned good. Blair untucks his leg, rearranges himself so he's sitting cross-legged on the seat and yanks a lock of hair behind his ear before he starts. 

"Well, see Naomi and me, we're in Honduras this one summer. She'd taken up with this pilot she'd met when we were in the Keys and he took us home to meet the family. It's his dad's 75th birthday and everybody's come back for the party. His parents still ran a plantation outside of Tegucigalpa and his kid sister was taking instruction at the local convent. She was home for the big family gathering and Teresa and I hit it off right away, but then she had to go back to the nuns. Man, I was like this lovesick little puppy, trailing after her. She was gorgeous too. Long black hair with hazel eyes and legs that just did not stop. 

"So after the party, she goes back to the convent, see? And I'm like devastated. Naomi's all wrapped up with trying to impress Enrique's parents ... like there's a snowball's chance in hell that she's going to become their daughter-in-law. So anyhow, I hitch to the convent, then wait until dark to break in. Teresa had told me about where she slept and the place wasn't exactly well guarded, so I just kind of slip in and poke around 'til I find her room. The other novice ... the one she shares her cell with ... was off praying or something, so I slip in and just climb into bed with her. Man that was some hot sex. I'll tell you ..." 

And then I did it. Honestly, I just wanted to shut him up. And maybe call his bluff about being the most worldly guy in the world. I know that I didn't mean anything more by it. It wasn't any admission that he'd been right along about my sexuality or that I was so hot for him that I could hardly keep it in my pants when he was around. No, it was just a way to get him to stop talking ... to stop that incessant line of bullshit that just kept pouring from his mouth. 

Anyhow, I just leaned over and kissed him right on the lips. It was kind of an open mouth, sloppy kiss with just a little tongue thrown in to rattle his cage. It didn't. He just opened right up under me and sucked me right in. 

I was surprised at how good it felt ... how good he felt. His mouth was wonderful ... soft and pliant and oh so tasty. And that tongue! Thoughts of other things that he could do with that tongue suddenly sprang into my head and I was sporting wood like a teenager. I brought my hands up and shoved them into his hair as I angled my body over to cover his, our mutual boners bumping and grinding together. Sandburg wrapped his arms around me and gripped my ass like there was no tomorrow. 

The teenagers were now giggling like mad and saying witty things like "look at the queers" and "gross" while the old woman was praying for damnation for Blair and my eternal souls. But the pope could have boarded that train at that moment and even that wouldn't have stopped me from kissing Sandburg into next week. 

Blair found a way though. 

"Blow me." 

He whispered those words as I abandoned his lips for the pleasure of kissing his jaw line. I stopped what I was doing ... well, wouldn't you ... and stared for a moment before he repeated his demand. How could I refuse? The kids got off at the next stop and there was no way the old gal could think any less of us, so I figured why the hell not? 

I reached down and slid his zipper open as quietly as possible, but it still sounded like a buzz saw echoing through the empty car. I hesitated a moment, but Sandburg gave me a little nod, so I squeezed my hand into his shorts. God, his dick was so hot and hard. He was cut and the head was just throbbing with need. I pulled it loose and looked down at it in all it's glory. Man, I nearly came in my pants just looking at him like that. 

I've never seen anything as beautiful as my Blair that night. His big blue eyes were half closed and his mouth was partially open. His cheeks were flushed bright pink and his hair was fanned out against the back of the seat like a golden halo. He looked like an angel except for that great big dick pointing straight up at me. 

I licked my lips and bent down, unsure of how to do this without making myself gag. Just being down there pondering it was apparently enough of a turnon for Sandburg that it starting leaking precum and that was just too cool. I licked that up, found that I really wasn't that disgusted with the taste, and licked some more. Sandburg was moaning big time by this point and the old woman was fussing with her stuff, I think looking for a pen and paper to write down a complaint about us. 

Pulling my lips down over my teeth ... I knew enough to know that teeth were a bad thing when it came to blow jobs ... I slid my mouth down that searing shaft of flesh. Blair gasped at that, so I tried some licks and then started sucking. Turned out that whatever it was I was doing was just fine with Sandburg. 

I'd always figured that given his naturally loquacious nature, Blair would be a talker during sex. I sort of thought that I'd get either a running commentary on my style or the usual porn movie phrases ... yeah, suck that cock ... come on and suck me, big boy ... that sort of thing. Instead, I found that Blair was actually rendered speechless by my sexual prowess. No history of blow jobs in ancient Mayan civilizations or even one reference to me being such a great cocksucker. No, Blair just moaned ... loudly. I stuck two fingers in his mouth to keep him quiet and he went to town sucking them. 

When I started to hum the tune to Stars and Stripes Forever, he grabbed onto my ears and started thrusting up into my mouth. As the train screeched to a stop at the Eisenhower Avenue station, I pressed down on his hips with my free hand 'cause he was bucking so hard that he was starting to choke me. Then the lights flickered and Blair screamed and hot come filled my mouth and my pants. It was too much and I spit his out onto the floor, then collapsed onto his lap. Good thing we had one more stop, since there was no way I could stand up immediately after that. 

"Come on, Jim," I heard him whisper a few minutes later as the train pulled into the Huntington station. He pushed unenthusiastically at my shoulder, but I still didn't want to move. I could've ridden that train all night if it meant lying there against him. 

"It's our stop. Come on!" 

I raised my head up and looked at him, then started to giggle. He looked so cute and so debauched and all I wanted to do was grab him and kiss him again. He put a hand on my chest to push me up and that's when he saw the wet spot on my pants. Well, he was so busy laughing that he could hardly get himself tucked into his. I tried for a shred of dignity and wiped my mouth on my hanky and we got ourselves together to get off the train. 

Blair picked up his backpack and I grabbed it away from him to hold in front of myself. He gave me this dramatic wink like we were the only two people in the whole world that would be able to figure out what I was hiding, then patted me on the ass to move me forward. It felt awful, but I had to get back to the hotel somehow and I really didn't want to parade through Washington, D.C. with the front of my pants soaking wet. I thought about rolling a bum for his trousers, but that wasn't a much more appealing thought. 

Anyhow, I headed toward the exit with the backpack bouncing off my legs and Blair chirping along behind me. I hadn't made it far when he ran smack into me as I froze at the door. There were two transit cops standing by a pillar watching the riders unload. There was a tall, bald one with a real intense look on his face and a smaller one with curly blond hair whispering something in the big guy's ear. The little guy was holding a piece of paper with what looked like an artist's composite on it. The man in the picture looked like me. 

I know I wasn't being rational, but all I could think in that split second was that the old woman had reported us and we were about to be busted. The next day's headlines flashed through my mind ... Cascade Cops Caught In Onboard Orgy. I guess Blair wasn't as concerned as me ... or maybe he just had the brains to realize that there was no way they could be looking for us. Anyhow, he shoved me through the doors and headed up the nearest escalator. 

We caught a cab to the hotel at the station and by the time we got to the Radisson, Sandburg was zonked out on my shoulder. I got him upright and paid the driver, but there was no way he was going to make it to the hotel room under his own steam. I gave up trying to wake him up and just draped him over my shoulder in the classic fireman's hold. I carried him onto the elevator and up to 1407. 

He revived some when we got off the elevator and thought it was good time to start singing. Sandburg singing Bohemian Rhapsody at the best of times is not a pleasant experience. At 2:00 in the morning in a strange hotel with him drunk as a skunk was just plain nasty. I swatted him on the ass to shut him up, but that just made him sing louder. 

We got a few looks through partially opened doors before I finally got him into the room and tossed him down on the bed like a sack of potatoes. He fell in a graceless lump and switched to I Want To Fuck You Like An Animal for his encore. It was a better choice. It gave him something to strip to and me ideas. 

Needless to say, it was a great trip and that's no mistake. We're going to trade places with two officers from Albuquerque next year. 

**END**

* * *

End WHEN LOVE COMES TO TOWN by Roxanne: dds455@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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